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“Why, hello there, night guard!”
To William’s surprise - or lack thereof - the poor man’s soul nearly left his body, having not at all expected to be approached from behind, let alone by his manager. Typical night guard. Nocturnal, sleep deprived fucks ; jumpier than a rabbit with arrhythmia. Pale in the face, wide eyes open, the man turned to face William and as he turned his head up to look him in the eye he paled a little further ; likely already having forgotten that his manager being purple wasn’t a fever dream. Regardless, like the model employee that he was, he offered William a slightly anxious smile.
“O-Oh, good morning sir!” he stuttered out a greeting, albeit groggily so. “Is-Is there anything I can do for you?”
Anything to avoid getting fired for who knows what reason, William internally finished the thought in for him. Couldn’t blame him since as far as he knew, poor guy didn’t even finish high school, so his chances at finding another gig to support himself were just like William himself : slim and slippery.
“No, no. Just surprised to see you here, is all, since you leave at six in the mornin’ most of the time,” the aubergine man shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned onto the table the night guard was sitting by (trying not to fall asleep on, more like). “Any reason for stayin' here instead of going home and hitting the showers?”
“Yeah, I do have a reason, actually. I’m not really feeling lucid enough to drive, so…I thought I’d sit here for a while until the caffeine hits,” and sure enough, that certainly explained the a pile of empty vending machine coffee cups the poor man was almost buried in. “O-Oh, and I already clocked off, so it’s not like I’m trying to sneak in overtime ‘n all…”
A reason as good as any other, William supposed. Why, when he’s too tired after an evening of doing maintenance on the suits, he goes to one of the cushioned seats in the dining area and takes a nap in one of the secret compartments under the cushions. Granted, it wasn’t a regular occurrence, as Henry wasn’t a fan. So, now that he had his monthly chit-chat with his employee like the good manager he was, he should have been on his way. Alas, the aubergine man was a man not only of many hues of purple, but also many virtues ; curiosity being one of them.
“Say, night guard, I’m wonderin’… Why work a graveyard shift at a mascot diner?” William raised one eyebrow. “The cook was the one reading your CV and Henry interviewed you, so I wouldn’t know, y'know?”
From the look of it, the night guard was more than taken aback by this display of consideration, unusual for the average manager. Why, he even looked around like some kind of silly goose, to make sure William was actually talking to him. Fortunately for him, the staff of Fredbear's consisted of exactly four employee’s, six if one was dumb enough to include the robots. There was no one else that William could have been asking that question. With that out of the way, the man sighed as he awkwardly scratched at his neck, briefly looking away.
“Well…I’m…Pretty strapped for cash, sir. I recently started living alone,” he explained vaguely, gesturing idly. “I was considering the military, but I have a dog to take care of, so, night shift it is.”
“Good choice, if you ask me,” William nodded. “Career choice wise, I mean. I’m more of an amphibian and reptile kinda guy.”
In turn, the guard let out a short, awkward chuckle.
“Is it because you’re one yourself, sir?” he asked, before squinting slightly at the slivers of purple skin, just barely visible from behind the shirt collar. “…These kinda look like scales…”
Indeed, scales they were. William looked down, finding himself idly scratching at them. When was the last time he shed them? Last time that he could recall was sometime before ‘69, after that things got significantly blurry with reoccurring nausea and drilling headaches, in his eyes merely a byproduct of Henry asking him to do maintenance night shifts. For all of his limited knowledge of his own biology, he could have been long since due for a good, long back scratch. Against a tree. Or a rock. Or a good pair of rakes.
“That they are, night guard, though I’m probably neither amphibian or reptile, I’m afraid. My best guess is that I’m half-whatever cryptid the McDonald’s mascot was based on.” An ugly, shapeless abomination - or so Henry once idly commented during a conversation in which William happened to bring up the clown’s emporium and in extension their pet purple blob. Granted, in spite of their violet kinship, William didn’t think much of that remark. Tried not to, at least, least he’d end up reaching some inconvenient conclusions. In the meantime, his answer only seemed to have confused the poor, tired night guard even more as he furrowed his eyebrows and squinted at his superior, trying to make sense of what he said.
“…But isn’t Grimace a sub-species of primate, like Yeti and Big-Foot?” he asked. “If that was really the case, wouldn’t you have fur as opposed to scales, sir?”
Huh! Well, truth be told he never thought of it that way. Still, it was a good point, he had to give him that.
“Ha! I like the way you think, night guard!” William grinned, patting the somewhat startled man on the back. “Keep it up and Henry might just give you a raise!”
He wouldn’t, of course - Henry knew better than to delegate funds to disposable employees like night guards. Ronaldo? That was a different story, the man was a kitchen wizard, with how he could make those kids and the occasional witness taste like real pepperoni after he was done with them. Not that William would know. He refused to be the taster. This poor idiot, though…For all he knew, one of these mornings William or Henry would find him dead in one of the suits. No point in pouring money down a drain leading to nowhere, no? Speaking of the devil, from the corner of his vision he saw a calloused, flushed hand gesturing for him from across the diner, into the backroom. What was it this time? Only one way to find out, and besides, he knew better than to keep the devil waiting.
“Well kid, I’m off! Have a good one!” William gave him one more pat on the back as he began retreating, still smiling wide enough for his face to hurt.
Fun guy, that one.